


The Rights and Responsibilities of a CO

by Ani272



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Sex, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Roller Coaster, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Protective John, Rape Aftermath, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani272/pseuds/Ani272
Summary: Lorne's team run into problems on a planet of strong warriors and when Sheppard's team come to aid them, they discover the only way out is to violate their own.
Relationships: Evan Lorne/John Sheppard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my beta, Salchat - any remaining errors are entirely my own.

It was as Doctor Parrish was taking some samples from the bark of an odd-looking tree that it happened. One moment, the team was standing around… again, waiting… again, for the botanist to get over whatever excitement the local flora had elicited in his soul, and the next moment, they were surrounded by more than 20 enormous natives, all armed with primitive weapons, and looking distressingly unhappy.

Major Lorne tried to talk their way out of it, but he didn’t get much beyond the standard, “we come in peace” routine, before the locals had fired their poisoned darts, and the team all dropped to the ground, the darkness overtaking them.

When they woke, they were lying in a dingy cell, faint light wavering through the bars of a high window in the far wall. 

Lorne was the first to rouse, his head aching more than it had in a long while, and his stomach trying desperately to escape out his mouth. He moaned, then moaned again, even though he’d tried hard to keep the sound to himself. He lay there, eyes closed, the floor rocking beneath him, feeling as if at any moment he was going to lose control completely. Breathing slowly, carefully, in and out was helping. 

And then he heard Coughlin start to moan, and shortly thereafter he heard Reed and then Parrish. All moaning. It was pretty unpleasant.

Maybe 20 minutes later, Lorne was feeling settled enough to try and sit up. His stomach had knocked off the escape attempts, but his head was still aching badly, and seemed to be filled with wool rather than brains. He gazed blearily around the cell, seeing his three team mates still lying on the floor in various states of moan. He raised his eyes a bit, and saw brick walls and a door, with a grill set into the top.

After a while, Coughlin levered himself to an upright position, then Reed did the same. They all sat in silence, breathing in and out, trying to orient themselves to their situation. Eventually Parrish joined them, struggling upright and leaning against the wall, so they were four peas in a pod, slumped upright and not looking too happy about it.

“Right,” said Lorne, his voice sounding very pale. “Has everyone passed the barf stage?”

Various affirmative noises greeted his question, and he accepted that they weren’t going to have to sit with the stench of vomit added to the other difficulties they were facing. That seemed to be the only positive.

He let another five minutes pass, and his mind was starting to reboot and come slowly back online, the woolly feeling receding a little.

He pushed himself to standing and staggered across to the door, discovering that his centre of balance was pretty badly affected by whatever the hell had been in those darts. Listing heavily to port, he considered the door. There was no handle on this side, and it was made of pretty solid timber. It seemed unlikely there was an axe in the cell with them, so they probably weren’t getting through that. He slumped down on the floor next to the door and considered his next move.

While he was resting there, thinking, Coughlin spoke, “The window looks pretty high, Sir. Don’t think we’ll be escaping that way either.”

Lorne nodded, then regretted it as the world tilted rather steeply and he suddenly found himself lying on the ground again.

Silence reigned as the team sat (or lay) in their various states of misery, waiting for the after-effects of the particularly nasty poisoned darts to leave their systems. 

The light coming in through the window faded, the sun setting slowly.

It was maybe an hour later that they heard the noises outside. By this time, they’d reached the stage of being able to sit properly upright, the nausea gone, the headaches lessening although still there. The woolly feeling had reduced, with some brain function returning – enough anyway, to realise that they weren’t going to be escaping from this cell unaided, and to notice that all their gear was gone – backpacks, tac vests, weapons. Even Coughlin’s boot knife had been taken, although his boots had been spotted, abandoned in a corner, and he’d managed to put them back on.

They’d also discovered some bumps and cuts and bruises, nothing too bad, although Lorne’s forearm was pretty badly scraped, the skin abraded and bleeding sluggishly. He tore the sleeve off his BDU top and used it to roughly bandage over the wound. It was full of dust and dirt, but they had no water to clean it, and at least no more dirt would get in.

The noises outside eventually resolved themselves into the sound of many feet and angry voices, and the door to the cell was suddenly flung open.

Four huge men stood in the doorway. They were easily as tall as Ronon if not taller, but they were twice as wide, muscles gleaming with oil.

Lorne pushed himself to his feet, and stood, swaying only slightly. Beside him, he saw the rest of the team making their way up as well.

“Hello,” he said. “I think there’s been some misunderstanding.”

The biggest of the four men, the one with the extra decoration on his shirt spoke, “You have defiled the sacred tree of the Unatis. For this, the punishment is severe.”

“I’m sorry,” Lorne responded, realising that Parrish had inadvertently trodden on some pretty big toes. “We didn’t realise this planet was populated, otherwise we would have come to find you, meet you, ask what we could touch and what things were taboo.”

“We have lived here for countless generations. Your words have little meaning. You have defiled our sacred tree, and tomorrow evening, as the full moon rises, the one who caused the sacrilege will pay for his transgression.” The man’s eyes turned to Parrish and stayed there, glaring angrily.

Lorne took a step forward. “Actually,” he said. “My name is Major Lorne, and I am the leader of these people. If there is to be punishment, then it is my right and my responsibility to take that punishment.” Behind him, he could hear David making a sound, suddenly cut off, and realised that Reed had probably trodden on his foot to keep him quiet.

The man narrowed his eyes, his forehead furrowing as he considered Lorne’s words. “You will come with me,” he said, and two of the other men moved forward, grabbing one arm each and dragging Lorne forward and out of the cell. Before the rest of the team could respond, the cell was empty, the door closing, and Lorne was gone.

Coughlin slumped back down to the ground, Reed and Parrish following him. “You shouldn’t have stopped me,” Parrish said, sounding distressed. “It was my fault, not the Major’s. I’m the one who touched the tree.”

Reed rolled his head across the wall to face Parrish, “There’s no way any of us will be letting you take any punishment for that, Parrish. That’s what _we’re_ here for. The Major is only doing his job, he’s our Commanding Officer, it’s his duty to protect us. You putting your hand up to take whatever this ‘severe punishment’ is, isn’t going to help.” He sounded dejected, and he was. He hated it when the Major ended up injured because one of them had done something he had to protect them from, or rescue them from, or help them out with. And all David had done was to scrape some bark samples from a tree! The Pegasus Galaxy never ceased to come up with more weird and wonderful rules to trip them up.

It was maybe 2 hours later that the door opened and Major Lorne was thrown in. Literally. Two guys, holding his arms and legs, swung him through and onto the floor, before slamming the door closed again.

Lorne landed face down in the dirt and lay there, whimpering slightly. 

Coughlin moved to his side, crouching down, while Reed did the same on his other side.

“Major?” Coughlin asked. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

Lorne rolled himself over on to his back, groaning as he did so, and all three of them gasped. He had a truly spectacular bruise forming over his left cheek.

“They didn’t like all of my answers,” he said, “but I got them to agree in the end.”

“Oh, Major, I am so sorry –” Parrish began, but Lorne cut him off.

“It’s no biggie Doc. Not your fault they have a sacred tree.” He pulled himself up, gasping as he did so, and stumbled across to the wall, slumping down against it with another groan.

“Where else are you injured, Sir?” Coughlin asked, following him over. 

Lorne moved his hands across his abdomen and up to his rib cage. “The big guy that talked to us here… he didn’t much like me refusing to let him punish Parrish. He might have punched me in the guts, in the ribs a time or two,” he said wearily.

Coughlin moved Lorne’s hands aside and pulled his BDU top and t-shirt out of his trousers, lifting them so he could see Lorne’s torso. 

“Lie down for me, Sir, so I can check the damage,” he said, and helped Lorne to ease himself down onto the floor. He ran his hands over Lorne’s abdomen and ribs but couldn’t feel any telltale signs of significant damage, and Lorne didn’t flinch as he went. “I think it’s just bruising. Doesn’t appear to be anything cracked or broken, Sir.” He didn’t mention the possibility of internal bleeding, they all knew it was a risk.

“Excellent,” Lorne responded. “That’ll make it easier to run when it’s time to escape.”

“Do you have a plan?” Parrish asked eagerly.

“Nope,” Lorne said, lying limply on the ground. “Maybe something will occur to me tomorrow.”

Parrish subsided, deflating with the realisation that they were stuck here.

“Do they plan to feed us, Sir? Or give us water?” Reed asked.

“Nope,” Lorne said again. “We’ve been very evil and they’re very angry. Once the punishment is over, tomorrow at moonrise, then we can go home.” He sounded exhausted.

“What is the punishment?” Coughlin asked.

“They wouldn’t say. Apparently, they’ll tell me when I need to know, like right before they do whatever they’re gonna do. I’m pretty sure I’m meant to survive it though, so they’re probably not going to cook me and eat me or anything.” His voice sounded dreamy now, the aftereffects of the poison, coupled with hunger, thirst and whatever they’d done to him when he’d been out of the cell, were clearly spacing him out a little.

“Okay, Sir. Let’s all get some rest now,” Coughlin said. “Take things as they come in the morning.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Reed offered, and Coughlin nodded.

The cell settled into quiet as sleep descended on three of the team, with Reed sitting silently, watching the door.

\----- -----

Colonel Sheppard was in the middle of a strenuous session with Ronon when Corporal Dunnage appeared in the doorway of the gym.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she said. 

Distracted, Sheppard turned his head towards her, inadvertently giving Ronon the opening to knock him to the floor, again.

“Oof! Thanks, big guy,” Sheppard griped, scowling a little. But Ronon just laughed and held out his hand to help Sheppard up off the mat. They moved across to the benches on the side, and Sheppard grabbed his towel and water bottle. Once he’d wiped off the worst of the sweat and had gulped half the bottle of water, he turned to the doorway.

“Yes, Corporal?” 

“Mr Woolsey asked that you come immediately to the ‘gate room, Sir.” 

Sheppard nodded in response and dropped his towel and bottle into his sports bag. Raising an eye at Ronon, silently asking him to take care of the bag, the Colonel made his way quickly to the Control Room.

“Ah, Colonel Sheppard,” Woolsey said as he arrived. “Thank you for joining us. Major Lorne’s team is overdue for their scheduled check in today. I thought you would want to know.”

Sheppard nodded. “How overdue?” he asked.

“Half an hour, Sir,” Chuck, the Control Technician on duty, responded.

“The planet they’re visiting was uninhabited, wasn’t it?” Sheppard turned to Woolsey to confirm his own memories.

“Yes, indeed. PX3-768. The Atlantis database showed it as being rich in flora, and they had Dr Parrish with them in lieu of Corporal Rivers who is, of course, still recovering in the infirmary from their last mission.”

Sheppard nodded. “Dial it up, Chuck.”

As the wormhole formed with its usual whoosh of brilliant blues, Chuck pushed the button to engage the radio, and Sheppard said, “Colonel Sheppard to Major Lorne.” He waited for a moment then, “Major Lorne, this is Colonel Sheppard, are you receiving?” When there was still no answer, he said, “This is Colonel Sheppard calling any member of Major Lorne’s team. Do you receive?” The silence was deafening and everyone in the ‘gate room looked concerned, uncomfortable with the lack of response.

“Shut it down, Chuck,” Sheppard said, turning to Woolsey. “Permission to lead a search and rescue mission?”

“I think you can take just your team for now, Colonel. Until we know for sure that something is really wrong, I don’t wish to send a large number of troops.”

Sheppard nodded. He was okay with that. The planet had shown in the database as uninhabited, maybe the team had met with a natural disaster, or was holed up in a cave avoiding nasty wildlife. He tapped his radio, “Teyla, Ronon, McKay, be in the ‘gate room in 30 minutes, geared up for a rescue mission.” Then he smiled briefly at Woolsey and headed for his quarters to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes.

\----- -----

40 minutes later, they stepped through the ‘gate onto a lush and verdant planet, vegetation of all sorts growing thickly as far as the eye could see. The Ancient database had suggested that this uninhabited planet had many trees and bushes that grew edible fruits and nuts and so on, and Lorne’s team had been dispatched to determine if Atlantis could benefit in any way.

John tapped his radio and said, “This is Colonel Sheppard. Lorne are you receiving?” Again, his question was met with silence and he turned to look at Rodney, who pulled the life signs detector out. 

“Oh no,” Rodney said, using his we’re-all-about-to-die voice, “Oh, no, no, no, this is bad.”

“What?” John asked, moving slightly so he could see the LSD screen as well. “Oh,” he said, and that was all they had time for, before a group of 40 or more men streamed silently into the clearing, surrounding them.

The team raised their weapons, but realised immediately that they couldn’t possibly hope to take out all of the enemy, and there was no way they would be able to negotiate for the release of Lorne and his team if they were dead. 

Also, John noted that there were no guns visible. Each warrior had a thin tube in his hand, held down by his side, and that was it. His eyes narrowed as he considered what they might be, but as the warriors encircled them in silence, he signalled to his team to lower their weapons.

“Hello,” he said, his voice loud enough to reach them all. “I’m Colonel John Sheppard, and these are my team, Dr McKay, Ronon, Teyla.” He pointed to each one as he said their name.

The men surrounding them remained completely silent. They were glistening with sweat, and their chests were heaving as if they had been running, but they breathed with almost no noise. It was quite uncanny.

“We mean you no harm,” Teyla said, taking a step forward to come up beside Sheppard. “We have come to your world seeking some friends of ours. Have you seen them?”

Still no reaction, but after a minute or so of silence, there was a commotion from the direction of the path, and a solitary figure stepped through the circle of warriors.

This man had a florid insignia on his chest, and was clearly in charge. He stood just forward of his men and spoke, “You seek the defilers of our sacred tree?” he asked, anger clear in his tone.

“Um,” Sheppard said, “we know nothing about that, but we are looking for four men who are dressed as we are, who came to this planet yesterday.”

The man frowned and made a sudden gesture. As one, the warriors lifted their thin tubes to their lips, but John had immediately responded by bringing his P-90 up, ready to fire, and he called out “Stop!” 

The man made another gesture and the warriors paused, waiting to see what else John would say. “Wait, please. We come in peace. We just want to find our missing people and we’ll go.”

The man looked John up and down consideringly, then he made a different gesture, and the warriors lowered their tubes, and eight of them stepped forward, walking menacingly towards the team.

John, Ronon and Teyla made a tight defensive circle around McKay, their weapons up and ready. The man walked up behind these warriors and spoke, “You will come with us to where your people are imprisoned. You will speak with Leader Tzarne about this matter.”

John nodded, “Okay, speaking with your Leader sounds good. Thanks.”

“You will give your weapons to my men,” the man continued, his tone showing that no other option would be acceptable.

John nodded again, slowly, and said, “Hand over the P-90s people.” Teyla and Rodney immediately complied, unhooking the weapons from their tac vests, as did John. Ronon was looking very disgruntled, never liking to be forcibly separated from his pulse gun. As Rodney and Teyla handed over their weapons, John turned to him, “You too, Chewie. Give the nice muscly warriors your gun.”

Ronon sighed deeply, angrily, and handed it over to the nearest of the warriors. 

The man in charge signalled again, and suddenly all 40 of the warriors were clustering in closely around the team, separating them from one another, and ensuring they were each surrounded. And then they were moving forward, heading for the path they’d appeared from.

John was trying not to gag from the stench of unwashed male rolling off the bodies of the men around him. There was little he could do, they were packed in on all sides, no doubt to keep him from attempting escape, but also because the path was not really wide enough for three-abreast. He hoped the village wasn’t far, because the smell was overwhelming. Not just the smell of sweat from the warriors’ run to the ‘gate, but the clear rancid odour of bodies that had gone too long since their last wash. It was a smell he was familiar with from Afghanistan, but usually his fellow military officers hadn’t been pushing up against him in a tight circle, when they’d all been in such an unhygienic personal state.

The hike to the village took them nearly 90 minutes. John couldn’t imagine how the warriors had made it to the ‘gate so soon after their arrival, even if they were excellent sprinters. Then he recalled radioing Lorne and his team when they’d been overdue for check-in, and wondered if maybe the warriors had heard his calls and had realised someone would be coming. That made the most sense, really, that they’d set off for the ‘gate immediately on hearing him calling over the radio. Especially since Lorne’s team had apparently damaged something very important. John wondered what, exactly, had happened, but whatever it was, the natives were clearly angry about it. He just hoped they hadn’t injured Lorne or his team too much.

John and his team were brought to a big building in the centre of the village. They’d passed several other buildings along the way, but John hadn’t had much of a view through the moving bodies of his entourage. 

He looked around as his armed guard stepped away from him, leaving himself, Teyla, Ronon and Rodney in the middle of what amounted to an arena. The building had only one room, with a clear area in the middle, and wooden benches arrayed around the edges a few tiers high.

Rodney was muttering to himself, brushing his clothes down and calming himself with his usual litany of complaint. At least he had the sense to keep the volume down. The warriors had not moved back very far, lining the edges of the arena in a full circle, leaving no possibility of escape, those little tubes held firmly in their hands. John assumed they held poisoned darts of some sort or another.

He leaned towards Ronon and said softly, “No false heroics, Chewie. Let’s try talking our way out first.”

Ronon scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, but made no further move, so John leaned away, settling himself, ready to face Leader Tzarne, whenever that person should choose to make an entrance.

And, even as he thought it, there was a buzz to their right, and yet another tall, wide and well-muscled man was making his way to them, although he at least wore more clothes. _‘Maybe it’ll mask the stench,’_ John thought irreverently.

The man stopped in front of them, several feet back, obviously considering that to be safely out of range of anything they might try. He looked them up and down, one by one, his gaze pausing on Teyla for longer than was comfortable, although perhaps he was just surprised to see a woman with them. Finally, he turned his head to John. 

“I am Leader Tzarne. My warriors tell me you are seeking those who committed such travesties against us yesterday.”

Teyla stood forward and spoke. She was far and away the best of them for diplomatic speeches, and clearly this situation was going to call for all her powers of persuasion. “We believe that our people may have inadvertently caused you offence, Leader Tzarne,” she said. “If so, we would like to offer our apologies for whatever they may have done to upset you,” she bowed her head slightly towards him, in a gesture of respect, and then turned to John. “I would like to make known to you Colonel John Sheppard, Dr Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, and I, myself, am called Teyla Emmagen.” She smiled graciously, a confident and friendly smile, one that said she knew her words would find their mark, and all would be forgiven.

It didn’t work.

“Your people came here, to our planet, uninvited, and without making themselves known to us, they cut a hole in our sacred tree, causing grave damage to it. And all this on the eve of the full moon, as our sacred tree was about to release its bounty to bless the new year.” As Leader Tzarne spoke, a low growl could be heard circling through the warriors in the arena. 

“We understand,” Teyla said, full diplomatic mode engaged. “You feel that a grave injustice has been done. Please understand that we were unaware that your people lived on this planet and unaware of the importance of this particular tree. Our information is very out of date. No offence was intended,” she smiled again, gently, warmly, comfortingly, her best ‘calming the angry natives’ smile.

“Offence may not have been intended, but it was most certainly given. Even the youngest of our children know that to touch the sacred tree carries the harshest of penalties.” Leader Tzarne’s expression grew even more grim, if that were possible. “And your Major Lorne has refused to allow us to punish the one responsible! He has insisted – _insisted_ –that he bear the sole weight of the penalty for this sacrilege. Even the effect of our warriors’ displeasure at his words would not sway him.”

All four of them came alert at those words. Clearly Lorne had been subjected to physical abuse, as they tried to get him to give Parrish up. Because of course it would have been Parrish who had ‘defiled’ the bloody tree.

“Major Lorne was correct in his statement that it is his responsibility to bear the punishment,” John said, in his ‘Colonel Sheppard addressing the misbehaving marines’ voice. There was no way he wanted Dr Parrish, the gentlest of civilian scientists – well, maybe Miko was a little gentler, but really there wasn’t much in it – to be subjected to these gigantic bullies dishing out physical retribution for the damage done to their precious tree. 

He glared at Tzarne, angry at the whole situation. It was a tree, for God’s sake! 

“You spoke of a penalty, Leader Tzarne,” Teyla intervened, her voice calm, as always. “Can you please tell us what punishment Major Lorne has endured for the transgressions of his team?”

“He has not yet received his punishment. That will occur with the rising of the full moon tonight.”

“And once the punishment is complete, will we all be free to go?” Teyla asked.

“You will be escorted from our planet and sent through the Portal. You will be banned forever from visiting our planet.”

Teyla nodded at that, her expression supportive of Leader Tzarne’s right to boot them off his planet. Inside she was exulting that they would all be released, but still…

“What exactly will this punishment entail?” she asked. 

Leader Tzarne drew himself up to his full, impressive, height. “It is the will of the people that the strongest of our punishments will be used on Major Lorne,” he intoned, his voice stern and unforgiving. “For those who break our laws, the worst punishment is that of Submission. We have the right to exert our dominance over Major Lorne, to prove to him that we are stronger than he, to make him bow before us, to prove that he has no rights on this planet beyond those we give him, to ensure that he shall not ever again defile that which is sacred to us.”

Rodney had stayed quiet all this time, subdued by the warriors surrounding them, but this was too much for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sheppard was quicker, “And by ‘submission’ and ‘dominance’ you mean…?”

“He shall be taken by one of my men - defiled himself, as he has defiled our customs and traditions.”

The silence that greeted that pronouncement was deafening, the team standing in shock at what was intended.

Teyla recovered the quickest, and tried to resolve the tangle – she tried for more than half an hour, explaining again the misunderstanding, trying to get Leader Tzarne to agree to a lesser punishment. By this time, however, the sun was setting, and the 40 warriors had been joined by at least 20 more, all of them tense, the anger they were clearly feeling about the situation palpable. They stood in a ring around the team, their hands clasping the poisoned dart tubes, ready at any moment to let fly, listening to the debate raging backwards and forwards, Teyla’s gentle, reasonable arguments versus the Leader’s growing intransigence.

Eventually Leader Tzarne drew himself up in fury. 

_“Enough,”_ he shouted. “Major Lorne must endure the punishment that has been set. He will be taken, by force, by one of my warriors, on this night of the full moon, to prove our dominance. Your only role will be to watch, and if you try any further to move us from this course, you will all join him in his punishment!” He glared at Teyla as he said that, and she felt a shiver of revulsion move through her at the prospect of being raped by one of these men. 

Ronon had listened in growing anger to the argument raging between Teyla and Tzarne, and when Tzarne started shouting he knew there was going to be no diplomatic escape. But there was no way he was going to stand by and allow this to happen. 

He launched himself towards the closest of the warriors, taking him down, but before he could move towards the next, he was hit with several poisoned darts, the warriors reacting immediately, and within a moment, he had fallen to the floor, lying still and silent.

John had sensed Ronon’s movement behind him, heard his rage-filled roar, and turning sharply around, had seen him barrel in to the first guy. Before he could do more than take a single step, Ronon was hit and slumping to the ground, all the fight gone out of him. He heard McKay gasp in horror, crowding closer to him, and he saw Teyla drop to her knees beside Ronon.

“He has a pulse, he is breathing,” she said, a breathless moment later.

“He is a fool to have tried to defeat my warriors,” Tzarne said, his voice raised in anger. 

“What was in the darts?” Sheppard asked, not willing to address Ronon’s actions.

“It is a poison. It suppresses all the body systems. It won’t kill him but will take some time to leave his body. He will feel very ill,” Tzarne said, sounding pleased that Ronon would suffer. 

Teyla stepped forward. “We apologise for the actions of our teammate, Leader Tzarne. If we argue no more, and make no further attempt to stop the punishment of Major Lorne, will you accept that Ronon’s punishment is to have been poisoned by your darts rather than raped?” she asked.

Tzarne gazed at her for a long, long moment. He was clearly considering. Eventually he nodded, “That is the only concession I will make,” he said. “The next of you that gets in the way will cause you all to share Major Lorne’s punishment.” He gestured and four warriors immediately picked Ronon’s body up, carrying him across to the side of the arena and dropping him on the ground. 

Tzarne waited until Ronon was a slumped, unconscious form on the floor, then turned back to Sheppard. “The punishment against Major Lorne stands. There will be no more attempts to delay. As the Leader of the man who will bear the punishment, you may choose which of my men will enforce the penalty.” He waved his hand and two of his warriors stood forward.

Both were gigantic. Taller than Ronon, twice as wide, solidly muscled, their clothes doing nothing to hide their physique as they stood in front of John. 

John gazed at them in horror. “No,” he stated, shaking his head emphatically, and a low growl went around the circle, the men moving a little closer, the circle around them tightening, poison dart tubes rising. 

John held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hang on a second. I understand this is the punishment that’s been set by your laws, and you won’t be swayed. Okay. I accept that. What you need to understand is that in _our_ culture the right and the responsibility for punishment falls to the Commanding Officer, and that is _me_. Major Lorne and his team are here, on your planet, under _my_ orders. Major Lorne is under _my_ command and no other is permitted to touch him. It is _my_ duty to punish him, and _I_ will do so.”

John heard Rodney gasp in shock as John stated his intent, but he ignored it, knowing that Teyla would understand the need that drove him, even if Rodney did not.

Leader Tzarne was staring at John now, having heard him out. Suddenly he turned, clapping his hands high over his head, and several of the warriors stood back from the circle and moved to join him on the far side of the arena. It was clearly a conclave of the council, gathered to discuss John’s demand.

Rodney grabbed hold of John’s arm, pulling him around to face him. “No, Sheppard, you can’t do this,” he said, his voice shocked.

“Rodney, they’re not going to let us go. Ronon’s unconscious already. You heard Tzarne – if we refuse to let this go ahead, he’s going to have those huge men rape us all. Do you want to be raped, here, tonight, by one of _them_?” he asked, pointing his chin at the circle of enormous men still surrounding them.

Rodney gulped, his eyes shifting from side to side. “Obviously not, but I don’t want you to have to do this to Lorne, either,” he said, rallying his courage.

“Look, Rodney, these guys are huge, and they’re angry. They’re not going to prepare Lorne properly and they’re going to tear him, damage him internally. Not to mention they’re probably diseased, and they clearly never wash, if the reek is anything to go by.”

Rodney didn’t respond to that, still holding onto John’s arm, his grip tight and shaky.

John put his hand over Rodney’s where it clung to his arm. Looking into his eyes, he said quietly, “If I were in this situation, do you really think I’d rather be raped by a diseased, stinking, stranger, than have you or Ronon step up and do it for me?”

Rodney dropped his head, and his hand, and took a step back. He nodded his head slowly in understanding. “Okay, yes, okay, I can see how this might be better.” 

John nodded at him and gave him a tight, uncomfortable smile. 

“They have decided, Colonel,” Teyla said softly, and John looked up to see Tzarne coming back, his warriors returning to the circle around them.

Leader Tzarne stood before them, his face showing his frustration. “You are a very troublesome people,” he said sharply. “We have agreed to allow you to punish Major Lorne yourself, as is _your right_ and _your responsibility_ – we have already had this argument with the Major about the man that damaged the tree, and it was very wearying. He did not give in, even when we beat him.” 

John’s face tightened at this repeated mention of torture, but Tzarne wasn’t finished, “The moon will rise shortly, and the punishment must go ahead, we do not have time to argue, so we have agreed that you may give the punishment instead of one of our own men.”

John took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and then settling again. Whilst he was very relieved that they’d said yes – he knew he couldn’t have stood by and let one of these natives rape Lorne, no matter what the consequence – now he was going to have to do it himself. He closed his eyes briefly, then, when Teyla surreptitiously kicked him, he opened them, smiled and nodded graciously, “Thank you, Leader Tzarne. We appreciate your understanding,” he said. 

“The punishment will be carried out in this room, in front of my people. I have sent my men to ready Major Lorne.”

John didn’t like the sound of that, but kept his thoughts to himself, simply nodding. 

The circle of menacing, poison-wielding warriors moved back a little, taking their seats in the front row, as the villagers started to stream in. John noticed that they kept their poisoned-darts ready to fire at a moment’s notice. There was no way they could get out of this.

At a signal from Leader Tzarne, four of the warriors approached and led them to the side, to one of the front row benches. They were forced to sit, side by side, with the warriors to each end of them. Ronon’s still form was lying on the floor nearby, and John could see him breathing. There was nothing they could do for him but let the poison run its course.

Rodney was fishing around quietly inside his tac vest, opening pocket after pocket, trying to find something.

“Quit wriggling, Rodney,” John said. 

“I’m looking for something,” Rodney said, short of breath as he contorted himself to access the lower pockets. “Here!” he whispered triumphantly, and then immediately glanced around, hoping none of the natives had noticed. They didn’t appear to be interested, so he turned to Sheppard. 

“It’s lube,” he said quietly, and John’s eyes lit up. “I don’t think they’re going to want you to prepare him much, since it’s a punishment after all, but if I squirt this onto your hands, you should be able to get it where it needs to go.”

John nodded. “Hang on though, I’m going to have to… undress… a bit, at least,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll need my hands for that.”

They sat in silence for a moment, thinking through the logistics. Then Teyla spoke, “Take your tac vest off now John, and your weapons, your belt, your BDU’s and your boots. You will need to be able to do what must be done, and they are going to want to see that you do it properly, so you’ll need to remove that much anyway. Rodney can then put the lubricant on your hands, and you will not lose much as you push your boxers off.”

John was turning an uncomfortable shade of puce as Teyla described how very exposed he needed to be to do this. He closed his eyes. 

“John,” Teyla said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “We understand how very badly you do not wish to do this. But the only other option is for us all to be raped by these enormous men. You are doing this, not just for Major Lorne’s sake, but for the sake of us all.” Her voice shook a little as she said that.

John nodded and took a deep breath in, holding it, then letting it out slowly. Then he bent and unlaced his boots, slipping them off with his socks, and moved on to the rest of his attire.

Once he was down to just his boxers, t-shirt and BDU top, he stopped, and Rodney was about to start lubing up his hands, when he saw Leader Tzarne approaching. 

“Major Lorne will be here soon,” Tzarne said, glaring into John’s eyes, “and you must be naked to perform this ritual punishment. Make no mistake that this is to be _punishment_ , he must be _dominated, cowed_ by this act.” It was clear he was regretting his decision to let John take the place of one of his men. He held John’s gaze for several moments, and then turned and stalked back to his own seat on the far side of the arena.

John huffed out a breath, then started unbuttoning his top. Once he was down to just his boxers he stood and faced Rodney, “Put it on the backs of my hands, McKay,” he said softly. “I can get it from there, but if they throw any more rules at me, I’ll still be able to use my hands if I need to.”

Rodney nodded and did as he was asked, gooping the lube into two piles, one on the back of each of Sheppard’s hands.

And then there was nothing to do but wait. 

The team sat together, each in their own bubble of silence. 

John’s mind was whirring. He knew they had tried everything they could to get out of this, and he had accepted the inevitable, the need to go through with it to keep even worse things from happening to his team, to Lorne’s team, to Teyla. He was fairly confident he’d be physically able to do it… although he’d always dated women, in the aftermath of battles gone wrong, when the adrenalin had been pumping through his body – and the bodies of his fellow soldiers – he’d exchanged a hand job or two. Once he’d even been on the receiving end of a blow job. He’d never done anything else though, the US military rules were very clear on that point, and he’d had no wish to be court martialled. But although they could dictate his actions, they couldn’t control his mind, and John knew his thoughts had often strayed towards the men around him. 

Once on Atlantis, John had kept himself well in hand, not letting his mind think of things he couldn’t have, in the tiny fishbowl of a city where he was the boss, where everyone knew everyone and there was no way out or away. But despite his best intentions, he had noticed Major Lorne… and noticed him big time. His broad shoulders, his compact build, these were right up John’s alley, but the attraction had gone well beyond the physical. At a deep level that John rarely acknowledged, he knew Evan was very important to him, but since there was no possibility of anything between them, he’d shoved his attraction in a box in his mind and turned the key. But now…. now he was going to have to act, to save them all, and it wouldn’t be in gentleness, it wouldn’t be an act of mutual desire, it would be in punishment, harsh, unreciprocated, unwanted, non-consensual. 

Jeez! John’s head dropped forward. Leader Tzarne had made it very clear that this was a punishment, that he, and all the enormous warriors filling the arena armed with their poisoned darts, expected this to be rough and painful, a true marking of dominance. How could John possibly take Evan like that? 

And then he had a tiny thought which grew to the beginnings of an idea, a way that he could take his time to prepare Evan, to ensure it wasn’t too painful, all the while giving the impression of his anger at Evan’s actions, and his intention to take further retribution once they were home. It would make this act of rape even more bizarre, almost like a farce, but it would let him take Lorne far more gently.

Satisfied that this would work, John sat back on the bench, looking across the arena as a stir near the door marked the arrival of the prisoner.


	2. Chapter 2

Evan and his team had spent the entire day sitting in their cell. Neither food nor water had been brought to them, and no-one had visited. The long hours of the day had passed by with nothing to mark them. In the late afternoon, there had a been an odd rush of sound as if a strong wind had passed through the village, and then nothing more. 

As the sun set, Evan knew that his punishment, whatever it would be, would soon be upon him. He lifted his head and looked around at his team. Sergeant Coughlin, always his right-hand man, capable and strong, ready to support and assist in any situation; Corporal Reed, the funny man of the group, a joke or a quip constantly on his lips, seeing the positive in everything that happened, except when he didn’t; and Dr Parrish, the nerdy plant guy, so caught up in his love of all things botanical that he was barely aware of danger, relying completely on the military guys to keep him safe. And they’d failed. 

As if feeling his gaze, Dr Parrish looked up at that moment and caught his eye. His expression woebegone he said, “I am so very, very sorry, Major –”

“It’s not your fault, Doc. We’ve been over this,” Evan said, fairly patiently given the situation. “We thought the planet was uninhabited, and we were wrong. We had no way to know the tree was important, and they gave us no chance to apologise for our mistake. There’s nothing you could have done differently.”

“Yes… but… we don’t even know what they’ll do to you, and it was _me_ –”

“Let it go, Doc,” Evan said, cutting him off wearily. “It is what it is, and they said we’d be able to go afterwards. Let’s just focus on that.”

And then there was movement in the hall outside and the door was thrown open, the usual four enormous men standing in the doorway. 

The leader pointed at Evan, “You. Up. Come now.”

And Evan obligingly got to his feet, smiled, a little grimly, at his team and exited the room, the door closing behind him.

They took him through the village and past a very large building that was humming with the sound of many people talking. Just next to it, there was a small room, and they took Evan inside, and told him to strip. 

“Are you sure?” Evan asked. “I’ve had my boots on for a couple of days, the smell’s going to be pretty unpleasant.” _‘Although compared with the stink of these guys, it’ll probably go unnoticed’_ , he thought, trying to cheer himself up.

The leader took a menacing step closer. “Strip. You must be naked for the punishment.”

“Right,” Evan said, as he began to unlace, unbuckle and unbutton himself. “And what exactly is the punishment? Can you tell me now?” 

And so they told him, in excruciating detail. The leader seemed to take great pleasure in cupping himself as he described to Evan exactly how he would be impaled, with great pain, to show their dominance over him.

Evan eventually closed his mind, trying to focus only on the removal of his clothes, and shut out the voices around him, all of them contributing suggestions on how the most pain could be elicited.

When he was naked, the leader produced a blindfold and wrapped it several times around his face, rendering him completely sightless. And then – one man holding tightly to each of his arms – he was taken back towards that building full of people. _‘Great!’_ he thought, _‘So not just a brutal rape, but an avid audience as well.’_ He wasn’t entirely sure that the Air Force had given him the right training to get through this.

Evan was brought to the middle of the arena and pushed down onto his hands and knees. He sensed the guard moving away, and realised he was alone now, except, of course, for the crowd of people talking and calling out, nearby. Just as he was truly becoming freaked out, wondering what the hell was going to happen next, he heard a very welcome voice.

\----- -----

John had stood as Lorne was brought it, pushing down his boxers and kicking them aside in preparation for the role he must play. Once the guards had released their prisoner and moved to sit amongst the other warriors in the front row, he walked to the middle of the arena, and stood in front of Evan.

“Major” he growled, and immediately saw Evan’s shoulders slump in relief, believing that rescue had arrived. He knelt and placed his hands, palms down, on Evan’s shoulders, and quickly went on, not wanting Lorne to speak at all, needing him to understand John wasn’t there to rescue him, but to enact the punishment of these barbaric people. 

Using an angry tone, his voice raised to reach all corners of the room, he said, “Yes, it is I, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, your Commanding Officer, Major. I don’t imagine you’re that happy to see me here, knowing that I, and I alone, am responsible for your punishment”. His hands appeared to be gripping Lorne’s shoulders tightly, but in fact, only his fingers were, his palms lifted slightly away, and his thumbs were running soothingly up and down Lorne’s neck. It was the most he could do to try and reassure him.

“I ordered you here to explore this planet, Major, you were under my command, but you chose to allow one of your men to break the local laws and damage a most sacred tree.”

John had moved around to Evan’s side, placing one hand on his shoulder, the other moving slowly down his back, heading for his butt cheeks. 

“By the laws of this land, you are to be punished, to be taken and dominated, to be shown to be at the mercy of another, and two very well-endowed gentlemen were selected for this task.” 

Lorne tensed at the mention of the locals raping him, but John squeezed his shoulder gently and he relaxed a little. “However, by the laws of _our_ land, only I, your Commanding Officer, can punish you, and so it falls to me to give this punishment, here.” 

John had wriggled a little further along Evan’s side now, moving his hand from his shoulder to his rump, the other pushing between his butt cheeks, the back of his hand smearing the lube into the cleft where he would be able to move it without being seen, guide it to where it would help Lorne bear this horror without tearing. He ignored Lorne’s jump at the first touch of his hand there, and his slight movement to pull away at the intrusion into his most private of places.

“You will remain silent throughout your punishment Major, and once it is done, you will continue to remain silent as your team is released and we return home, where your punishment will continue, Major, as per the ways of _our_ people.” 

And this was the reason for him saying all of this stuff… the command to silence was so the natives wouldn’t be expecting howls of agony from Lorne, and the mention of punishments was because he was going to try and cover his non-violent actions with angry words. 

John really hoped the natives were listening to his words, more than watching what he was doing. He had his fingers between Lorne’s cheeks now, sliding through the gel and moving it towards his hole, circling around and starting the necessary prep work for penetration. 

He continued, “You will be placed in the hands of the masochist Carson who will torture you with stabbing sticks until you truly understand how your actions have distressed us all.” 

He’d managed to get two fingers in now, and he felt Lorne’s breath hitch, his body instinctively trying to get away from the burning pain, but immediately stilled by sheer force of will. He was going too quickly, he knew, but he couldn’t draw this out indefinitely, the crowd was getting restless, he could hear the shuffle of bodies, and wondered if they were raising their poisoned dart tubes, ready to shoot him, shoot Rodney and Teyla.

Leaving his fingers inside Lorne, stretching him as carefully and quickly as he could, he lifted his other hand away from Lorne’s backside and ran the outside down his own erection. The lube applied, he then turned his hand and stroked himself to hardness. 

“Your punishment here will be slow and never ending, Major, so you will know the full depth of your crimes. A crime such as this is very serious, and your punishment should not be over quickly.” 

John withdrew his fingers, lined himself up and slowly entered, as gently as he could. Lorne was tight, very tight, and John knew he hadn’t had the time to prep him enough, but it was all that they had, and they were going to have to work with it. At least his words should have paved the way to enable him to take it slowly with a reason, and so cause less internal damage. 

He could feel how tense Lorne was, and as he gripped one hip with his left hand, he placed his right on Lorne’s back, his thumb moving in soothing circles – or so he hoped. How anyone could be soothed whilst being raped in an arena full of savage strangers was beyond him, but he was doing his best to make this as untraumatic as possible. 

His strokes started to get longer, and he realised he was hitting Lorne’s prostate as Evan’s body jerked a little each time, his body starting to sheen with sweat, goosebumps rising. Still, it was a very tight fit, and John didn’t want to speed up too soon, so he’d need to keep up the litany of punishments to distract the natives. 

“Once Carson has finished with you and throws you out, you will be given the worst duties in the land, you will have to clean out the sewers and will have to make haggis every evening, and _eat it_.”

Evan was finally loosening, the repeated stroking of his prostate having the effect of relaxing his muscles, whether he wanted it to or not. John started to speed up now, his thrust full length at last. The sensations were getting to him too. Despite the situation, friction was friction, and his cock didn’t seem to have a conscience. 

To cover up the fact that Lorne wasn’t in horrible pain, as had been the intent of this whole farce, he continued, “You will have to clean up the leavings of the horehounds and the glowworms. The Narwhals will be your especial duty, as they are the hardest of all creatures to care for, and you will doubtless by stabbed many times by their tusks.” 

John was almost there now, the sweat pouring off him, his thrusts turning short and sharp. 

“These shall be your punishments for having… so abused… the trust of the people of… this… fine… planet.” And he came, his cock pulsing inside Evan over and over, as his released overwhelmed him.

Evan had remained silent throughout the ordeal, gasping a little, moaning very softly once or twice and trembling a lot, and now, feeling John’s cum flooding through him, his untouched cock released the tension, cum spurting all over the floor. Evan almost bit through his lip, trying to make no sound. He had understood from the Colonel’s words that this needed to be seen to be painful, and he was scared that his captors would think it inadequate to sate their need for revenge, and would still decide that one of their own hulking brutes should rape him. 

Sheppard had fallen across his back as he came, but now he lifted himself up and very slowly and carefully withdrew. 

He stood and turned, saying, “It is done, Leader Tzarne.”

And Tzarne instantly raised his hand, one of the warriors bringing the pile of John’s clothes, another carrying Evan’s. “Fetch the remaining prisoners,” he called, and four of the warriors rose and left the arena.

John turned and quickly unwound Evan’s blindfold, then dressed himself with lightning speed, before turning back to help Evan.

Evan had managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly with the aftereffects of torture, dehydration, starvation and rape. He’d got his boxers on and was struggling with his BDU pants. 

John quickly finished pulling on his own boots, leaving them unlaced, just tucking the laces in the sides, then he dropped to the ground and helped Evan into his pants. That done, he rose and handed him his t-shirt, pre-buttoning the bottom of the BDU shirt and helping Evan to pull it on as soon as he was ready. He pulled Evan across to the benches where Teyla and Rodney were sitting, and sat him down, quickly dropping to his feet and pulling on his left sock and boot. He vaguely realised that Rodney was doing Evan’s right foot. Then he offered Evan his tac vest, leaving Rodney to help him into it, as he speedily strapped his own thigh holster on and donned his own tac vest. They were finished seconds before Lorne’s team was brought into the arena, and John collapsed down onto the bench seat next to Evan, hopeful that they may be able to keep this between just the five of them.

While John and Evan had been dressing, Tzarne had approached and spoken with Teyla. Teyla turned now, as Lorne’s team arrived, and smiled tightly at John. “Colonel, it is time for us to go. The punishment has been deemed successfully given and we will be escorted from this building to the ‘gate. We must go now.” She pointed to the pile of their weapons that had been returned.

John stood and looked over at Tzarne, not sure whether to believe that it was over or not. 

Leader Tzarne came a few steps closer. “It was well done,” he said. “I believe Major Lorne now understands how much his team’s actions angered us.” 

He turned his gaze to Lorne, noting the blood on his lip from where he had bitten it to keep from crying out as he came. “You bore the punishment stoically Major. I hope you can endure all of the punishments your Leader has described with such fortitude.”

Lorne nodded his head, unable to do much more as he was shaking now with the after-effects of adrenalin.

John took a step towards the still-unconscious Ronon, and Tzarne reached out a hand. “Are you not going to bind him? He may try to escape these punishments of which you spoke,” he said, his tone suspicious.

“Of course,” John said, as if he’d always intended to do so. “Teyla will bind his hands,” and Teyla immediately pulled open the pocket on her tac vests that held the zip-ties and extracted one. She turned to Evan, compassion in her eyes, although her face remained passive, and, as he lifted his hands to her, crossed at the wrist, she slipped the tie around them, pulling it lightly closed.

“My warriors shall see you to the Portal,” Tzarne said, as four men picked Ronon’s limp body up, and then they were being flushed from the building in a wave of warrior men.

John fought to remain at Evan’s side though, not willing for him to be alone and surrounded by the seething mass of enemy combatants in his presumably fragile state. Lorne may have preferred any other of his team mates to help him, rather than his CO who had just raped him, but he made no demure, accepting John’s hand on his shoulder as the support it was, helping him to maintain his balance on the rocky and uneven path, his bound hands throwing off his balance. 

John desperately wanted to stop and offer Evan and his team something to drink, to eat, but he knew that even if he could do so for Coughlin, Reed and Parrish, to tend to Evan in this fashion would be a huge risk. The warriors may decide, even now, that the punishment had been insufficient, and decide to take their revenge personally, so instead, he walked silently beside Evan, giving him what strength he could. 

After half an hour of hiking, or stumbling, as was the case for Evan, Ronon started to rouse, vomiting on the ground as he was carried along. The warriors walked a few steps on, then dropped him to the ground. Ronon shook his head and groaned, then clambered to his feet in the most ungainly fashion John had ever seen from him. The warriors closed around him again, and they moved on, Ronon staggering along in their midst, moaning every now and again and swaying from side to side.

Rodney had been slowly, and silently - in deference to the trigger-happy natives – processing everything that had happened, and he suddenly realised that Major Lorne was being supported along the path by the person that had just raped him. Thinking that he, himself, would probably prefer not to have to endure that, however well-meaning the assault had been, he suddenly stopped, forcing everyone else to stop too. 

“Swap,” he said to Sheppard, and when the warriors looked suspicious, Rodney said, “Of course we need to swap. Can’t you see that Colonel Sheppard is having to expend all his energies to keep Major Lorne balanced? It’s tiring him, and that’s not acceptable. I’ll take my turn keeping the Major on his feet, and then… Coplin and… Reese will have to help, if needs be. We need to get the Major home so that Carson can start stabbing him.”

The warriors all nodded amongst themselves at that, recalling the first of the punishments Sheppard had listed off. They allowed the swap, and Rodney took his place alongside Evan. He considered just putting a hand on his shoulder as Sheppard had, but Lorne was really struggling now, so he tentatively put his arm around Lorne, taking some of his weight as they walked.

Finally, the gate came into view, and the warriors backed off as Coughlin entered the gate address and sent through his code. 

“Do not return,” the lead warrior said. “It will go very badly for you, if you do so.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be back,” Rodney said forcefully, and helped Lorne up the steps and through the gate. 

The moment they were through the event horizon into the Atlantis ‘gate room, John turned, whipping out his knife and slitting the zip-tie around Lorne’s wrists. “Straight to the infirmary, Major,” he said, nodding at Rodney to ensure he would continue to help Lorne along.

John mounted the steps to debrief Woolsey, as the rest of the team members who had been offworld made their way out of the ‘gate room, headed for the infirmary too. 

Now that the warriors were no longer threatening them, Lorne’s team were avid in their questioning, desperate to know what had happened to their leader, what the punishment had been. Teyla took charge and explained that John had been obliged to chastise Evan in front of the whole village. As they made their way along the hallways, she listed off the punishments that Colonel Sheppard had said Major Lorne must endure. Lorne’s team laughed at the haggis, narwhals, and Evil Carson, but Evan only smiled tightly, while Rodney kept his head averted from the group, knowing he would give it all away if they saw his face.

Carson was ready for them, John having quickly radioed him from the Control Room, and he sent Lorne’s team with Ronon and Teyla across to the regular gurney’s to be checked out by his staff, but directed Rodney to bring Evan aside, into a private room. Once Rodney had helped Evan up onto the bed, Carson tilted his head, indicating Rodney should leave. 

“Now then, lad,” Carson said, his gentle voice full of compassion. “The Colonel radioed that you needed a private room, but he didn’t give me any details. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Evan had curled himself up on the bed, and was lying shaking, his arms up covering his face.

Carson looked him over, and went to a cupboard at the side of the room, fetching a blanket which he tucked around Lorne. “Rest there, lad, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Slipping out the door, he caught Teyla’s attention and motioned her into his office. “Major Lorne’s not talking, lass. Can you give me an indication of what I’m dealing with?”

Teyla lowered her head, her posture clearly uncomfortable. “Major Lorne has been without food or water for two days. He has been physically assaulted and is probably carrying injuries. And…,” she paused, unsure quite what to say.

“I need to know the worst of it, Teyla,” Carson said. Based on Lorne’s reaction, Carson had a fair idea that he’d been sexually abused as well, but he couldn’t ask, in case Teyla was unaware. 

But Teyla continued, her voice full of tears, “John was forced to rape him, Carson. It was to save us all. But it does not change the facts.” The tears ran down her face, her shoulders shaking, the memory of watching John being forced to violate Evan in such a way, in such a place, overwhelming her.

“Oh, lass,” Carson said, his rich brogue warm and comforting as he gave her a quick hug. “There are tissues on my desk, stay until you’re calm. I must get back to my patient,” and he slipped out the door.

It was more than half an hour later that Colonel Sheppard slid into the infirmary. He didn’t want to call any attention to himself at all, he was feeling twitchy and uncomfortable in his own skin, flashes of the rape assailing him repeatedly.

He’d managed to deflect Woolsey away from the main event, simply stating that they’d found Lorne’s team being held prisoner for a violation of a sacred tree, and had managed to secure their release by agreeing to a list of punishments that Lorne would be forced to endure once they were back in Atlantis. Woolsey had probed a little, surprised at the Colonel’s vehemence that the planet’s address be locked out of the dialling computer, but he had eventually given in and agreed with John’s recommendation. And so, it was done, the planet was barred and none of his people would ever set foot there again. He had done what he could to protect them all, and it hadn’t been enough.

He made his way quietly to Carson’s office, no-one noticing him as he used his stealth skills to get around the nurses who were active in the infirmary. Standing to one side of Carson’s office window that gave oversight to the infirmary, he could see Ronon in a bed nearby, his eyes closed, his face unnaturally pale. On a cluster of beds further along, Coughlin, Reed and Parrish were all on drips, no doubt replacing their lost fluids. Rivers, their missing team member, who had already been in the infirmary, was listening as they told their tale. John could hear snatches of their conversation. They were telling Rivers of the list of punishments he’d reeled off, and the team was laughing, thinking how lightly Evan had gotten off, thinking the punishment the natives had planned had been so easy to get out of.

John sat down on Dr Beckett’s chair and covered his face with his hands. Carson found him there more than half an hour later. He came bustling into his office, spotted John and immediately turned to close his door, shutting the blinds to the oversight window at the same time.

Then he came across to John, pulling a visitor’s chair with him, and sat down.

Slowly, John raised his face to look at Carson. The distress radiating from him was overwhelming, and there were tear tracks down his cheeks. He sniffed and dropped his head back into his hands. “Is he okay?” he asked, the question muffled.

Carson placed his hand gently on John’s shoulder. “Aye, Colonel, he’s physically fine. You did a good job of opening him up, there’s no tearing or damage at all.” John shoulders shook and he suddenly flung himself up out of the chair and crossed to the far side of the room. He nodded a few times, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he sniffed, trying to bring his emotions under control.

“Teyla’s sitting with him now, telling him the other side of the story,” Carson went on. “He knows that you had no choice, Colonel. He knows what would have happened if you’d refused.”

John shook his head. “Doesn’t make it any better, Carson,” he said, his voice wet with tears and misery.

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Carson said, his compassion for the whole situation evident in his tone and expression.

“Were you injured at all, Colonel?” he asked.

John shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “They didn’t hurt my team – just Ronon with the poisoned dart. Are Lorne’s team okay?”

“Well, they’re all dehydrated and slightly malnourished. There’s a few bumps and bruises. Major Lorne was the worst. Severe bruising over his abdomen and rib cage which has caused a little internal bleeding, but nothing we can’t manage. And a verra nasty bruise on his cheek, although, luckily, there’s no underlying damage there. His arm was slightly infected, where the skin had all been scraped away and dirt got in. But nothing that won’t heal in time.”

John nodded, a tremulous smile trying to make itself known. “Thanks, Carson,” he said, and Carson stood and crossed to where John was skulking in the corner.

“It wasna your fault, John. You had no choice, and you know that – so does Evan. It’ll take him some time, but he will heal.”

John averted his gaze.

“You need to speak with Dr Heightmeyer,” Carson said, and immediately regretted the words as he watched the Colonel instantly pull himself together, his tears drying, his stoic mask falling into place on his face. 

“I’m fine, Carson. Thanks for the update,” he said, and pushed past the doctor, heading straight for the door and out of the infirmary.

“Bloody hell,” Carson said, shaking his head as he watched him go.

\----- -----

John went to ground, hiding where no-one could find him. It helped that he had Atlantis in his back pocket. He mentally asked the city to hide his life-sign from the sensors and then he made for a balcony on the far side of the city where he could be completely alone, to try and come to terms with what he had done.

Teyla and Rodney tried in vain to locate him, and ended up deciding he was better off left alone to lick his wounds. 

Teyla had talked to Major Lorne. He’d wanted to know how the Colonel had managed to save him from the hulking natives who had taunted him as he’d stripped off, and she had told him the whole sorry tale, including the threat that they would all be raped if they continued to fight against Lorne’s punishment. She had wept as she spoke, and Evan had held her hand, squeezing tightly. He knew he wasn’t the only one to be traumatised by this, those watching, those who had tried to free him and failed, they were all suffering.

And Colonel Sheppard would be suffering the most. But right now, Evan needed to focus on himself, and so he had drawn into his own mind once Teyla had gone, and found a safe and private spot to fall completely apart. 

The rollercoaster of emotions was so hard to deal with. He had been terrified as he had stripped off his clothes, knowing that those enormous warriors were going to rape him, rip him up inside, take him against his will and he had to let them, to keep Parrish and his team safe. Then he’d been almost weak with joy to hear Colonel Sheppard’s voice, thinking rescue had arrived and he was safe, that he wouldn’t be violated. But within moments, he’d realised that wasn’t the case, the rape was going ahead, just that it would be at the hands of his CO, not one of the reeking, gigantic warriors, and he’d felt _glad_. And that was so hard to work through. He’d been glad because he _knew_ Sheppard, he _knew_ he’d try not to hurt him, he _knew_ Sheppard had no diseases and was clean and smelled nice. 

His mind diverted, wondering why the smell was so important… it had felt horrifying to know he would be taken by a guy that stank so badly it made him want to retch, a guy that had clearly never been near a basin of water since he’d been born. The relief at knowing a nice, clean guy was going to rape him had been stupid, but so real. And then the Colonel had started to list off asinine punishments, and Lorne had wondered why, quickly realising that Sheppard was using his words to cover his actions. It became obvious that the Colonel was doing everything he could reasonably do to protect him, to keep him safe, even while he was having to perpetrate such an horrific crime against him, inside him. 

The rollercoaster of good and bad – or bad and worse – left Evan feeling drained and empty.

Dr Heightmeyer had been by earlier, but Evan had not felt like talking, lying silent and unresponsive, and eventually she’d gone away.

Carson had brought him a dinner tray. He’d eaten the dessert, but hadn’t wanted to stomach the rest, pushing it away and curling back up under his blanket. He realised he was in shock, but there didn’t seem much he could do but ride it out.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

\----- -----

John slipped into the infirmary around 3am. His hours of introspection had done little to calm him, and he’d realised he needed to see for himself that Evan was all right. The night nurse was busy with a patient on the far side of the infirmary, so it was the simplest of tasks to slip silently through and let himself into Lorne’s room.

He closed the door softly behind him and turned to the bed. The lights were on but very low, and Evan was hooked up to an IV. He was lying on his side, the blanket pulled up tightly around him, just his IV hand out. 

John found a chair and pulled it across to the bed, silently placing it down before sitting. He had tried to work through his feelings alone on the other side of the city, away from everyone, away from the man he had betrayed. He knew he’d had no choice, but that actually seemed to make it worse in his mind, not better. He’d been forced to this, just as surely as Evan had, and he felt desecrated, damaged, some part of his soul ripped away. It was so much more horrific that it was _Evan_ that he’d had to hurt this way, Evan who was so much a part of him that he’d never even noticed what an important place he took up in John’s mind, in his heart.

John could feel the tears starting up again as he looked at Evan lying silent and still in the bed, breaths coming and going in a regular pattern, his bruised face nestled into the pillow.

Reaching his hand up, John stopped short of touching him. Evan would never want him to touch him, ever again. No shoulder bumps after a successful mission, no inadvertent finger brush as they passed paperwork between them. He wondered how this would play out in the days and weeks to come. Would Evan request transfer to Earth? Should he? He couldn’t imagine leaving Atlantis, she was a constant hum in the back of his mind, and he had never felt as ‘at home’ as he felt here, with the family he never knew he’d needed around him. But maybe he didn’t deserve this anymore, after what he’d let happen, after what he’d done. He laid his head down on the edge of Evan’s bed and he wept.

After a while, his tears lessened and he lay still for a while, there in the dimly lit room, his head laid on Evan’s blanket, his face turned to Evan’s.

And then he started to speak… he spoke in broken sentences, broken words, telling Evan of the horror he’d felt, taking him like that, telling Evan that he had only wanted to protect him, keep him safe from the natives, that trying to get his punishment revoked had only led to them all being threatened, that he loved him even though he wasn’t allowed to, and he was so incredibly sorry that he’d had to do this to him, to hurt him like this, to violate him, to take him without his consent…. 

His voice was gravelly with emotion, his words coming in a half-whisper, drawn torturously from his mind, stuttering from his mouth. Emotions were something John did not talk about easily, and yet here, in this darkened room with Evan, it felt like a catharsis to finally say how he felt, to tell Evan that he thought of him, cared about him, wanted to keep him safe. To tell him John was ashamed that he’d failed, that he’d been the one to cause the damage…

Suddenly John became aware of movement on the bed, someone was stroking his hair, just a bit, perhaps just one or two fingers moving back and forward. Sitting up, he saw Evan’s IV hand moving a little, but not a twitch, it was clearly moving with intent. Turning to look at Evan’s face, he saw his eyes were still closed, but his expression was no longer slack as in sleep. 

Evan was awake! Evan could hear him! John gasped and tripped to his feet. Pushing the chair away, he turned and fled from the room, from the infirmary. He’d never meant for Evan to know any of that. John went back into hiding.

\----- -----

Nine days had passed, and John had managed to hold it together. He’d avoided Heightmeyer, although he knew she’d hunt him down eventually, but he wasn’t ready yet.

The night he’d fled from Evan’s bedside, he’d managed to pull himself together by dawn, return to his room, have a long, hot shower and get dressed in fresh, clean, clothes. Then he’d looked at himself in the mirror, and deliberately donned his casual face, the one that hid all his emotions so well, and he’d taken himself off to the mess for breakfast with his team. 

They’d been careful around him, and despite his intentions to brush this off in public, he’d actually been grateful for their quiet support. Well, Ronon, newly released from the infirmary, and Teyla, had been quiet. Rodney had asked how he was, looking ready to dissect the entire mission, but he’d backed off pretty quickly when John had said “Fine,” in the tone he used to close down conversations, and Teyla had jumped in with a new subject and the moment had passed. 

Evan had been released from the infirmary three days ago, but John had managed to completely avoid him, staying away from his office and asking Atlantis to help him track Evan’s movements, so he could be wherever Evan wasn’t. This way he’d managed to eat, exercise, fire his gun – a lot, and take a jumper up for a calming flight, without ever encountering his XO. 

He knew it wasn’t fair, and eventually he’d actually have to let Evan have his say, tell John what he thought of his actions, get it off his chest. But he wasn’t ready for that conversation yet either.

Checking the LSD, on which Atlantis had obligingly coloured Major Lorne red instead of the blue used for everyone else, he could see Evan was in his quarters, which was perfectly reasonable for 2am. Quietly, John took himself off to the firing range. He’d found it soothing to fire bullet after bullet after bullet at the paper targets this week. Somehow, it let off a lot of excess emotion.

He’d been firing for maybe half an hour when he felt the slight movement of air that indicated the door to the range had been opened. Turning his head, he saw Evan approaching him. John stiffened, then slowly put the gun down and turned to face him.

Evan looked around as he entered, checking to see if anyone else was in the room. He was confident they were alone, because he’d checked his LSD and it had shown only one dot. But this conversation was going to need total privacy, so he did a visual check anyway. Reassured that there was no one else there, Evan reached out with his mind and locked the door.

He walked the length of the range to where John stood, silent and still, waiting for him. 

“Major Lorne,” John said as he approached. “I didn’t realise you’d be here at this time. I’ll just clean up and leave you to it.”

Lorne shook his head. “I didn’t come here to shoot, Sir. I came to talk to you,” he said softly, realising that John was very on edge and would be easily spooked. 

Evan had spent his recovery week working through everything that had happened. He had spoken with Dr Heightmeyer several times after that first day when he’d rejected her, and it had helped him to work out what he felt, and why. He’d come to terms with what had happened to him on that planet, but his healing would not be complete until he’d spoken to the other person most intimately involved.

John backed up a step and held up his hands. “I’m sorry, Major. I’m really, really sorry for what happened, for what I did. I realise there is no excuse and no way back from this.”

Evan was shaking his head. “I already know you’re sorry, Sir. I knew that the moment you squeezed my shoulders on that damn planet, ran your thumbs up and down my neck. I knew that you had no choice, that you weren’t doing it for your own sick pleasure,” he stopped suddenly, closing his eyes, memories and emotions assailing him. He breathed deeply a few times, in and out, then opened his eyes again. 

Sheppard was watching him closely, no doubt wondering if he was going to have a panic attack right here in the firing range. Well, he wasn’t! He was going to be okay, he just needed to get through this.

“Teyla explained everything that happened from your side, Sir. I know that you were protecting everyone. And Rodney told me what you said, about if it was you, that you’d have wanted Rodney or Ronon, not one of the stinking, diseased guys from that planet.” He stopped again and looked closely at his CO. John’s eyes were skittering back and forth, looking at him, then away, then back.

“I wanted you to know that I feel the same way, Sir. I wanted to thank you for what you did for me, protecting me, saving me from having one of those huge warriors rip me up.”

“ _Jesus_ , Lorne!” The words were torn from John’s mouth with the force of a nuclear warhead. “Don’t fucking thank me! I _raped_ you! You don’t _thank_ the guy that raped you. Jesus God!” Sheppard flung himself away, disappearing into the darker end of the firing range.

Lorne had flinched at Sheppard’s outburst, but after a minute or two, he followed him into the dark.

“You’re only seeing this from your side, Sir. Try seeing it from mine. They’d told me what was going to happen, but they didn’t tell me you were there. They deliberately made me think that they’d be the ones raping me. They didn’t say how many of them I’d have to take. They were _huge_ Sir, and so angry, and I _knew_ they’d damage me, possibly permanently, and I know that people can die from being torn open that way,” Lorne was breathing hard now, Sheppard eyeing him warily. “And then it wasn’t them, it was you. And I felt such relief, Sir, such incredible relief.”

Lorne shook his head looking down at the ground. “Dr Heightmeyer says that it’s okay that I felt like that, that I felt glad it was you. She says that given the alternatives, it was obvious that I’d have chosen you, if given an option.”

John was still standing silently, not saying anything, barely even breathing, and Lorne had reached the limits of what he could handle, here, now, his emotions running high. And so, he moved to say the thing that he’d needed to say, to admit to, to get him past this.

He looked John straight in the eye and said, “I’ve been fantasising about you for three years, Sir. I know I’m not allowed to, and the US military says it’s wrong, but I’ve still done it. And, well, that wasn’t the way I’d ever imagined our first time being. There was never an audience, and the dirty talk was a lot more sex-oriented – less narwhals, and I was able to participate… but you were just as gentle with me as I’d imagined you would be. And it felt good. Even amidst the horror of what was happening and how it was happening, with all my wounds and dehydration and the crowd of people watching and everything…. It still felt good.”

Lorne took a step back. “That’s all I needed to say, Sir. Thank you for listening.” And he turned to leave.

John stood in stunned silence, unable for a moment to process what he’d heard. He watched as Lorne started the long walk back up the firing range to the door, and eventually, just before he reached the door, he called out, “Evan!”

He’d startled himself by calling Evan’s name, and now he wasn’t sure what to do. But Evan had turned and was looking back at him. When he took a tentative step forward, Evan started walking slowly back towards him.

“Yes, Sir?” he said, and then stood and waited. If John needed to let out some of the trauma inside him, Evan would listen.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to do it that way,” John said, his eyes not meeting Lorne’s. “I couldn’t… there’s no way I could have stood by and let one of those natives touch you, but I… I’ve never… I didn’t want it to be that way.”

Evan cocked his head. “What are you saying, Sir?” he asked.

John swallowed, and ran his hand over the back of his neck, trying to draw strength from somewhere to talk about his feelings. “Were you awake in the infirmary, Lorne?” he asked, “When I was talking to you, that first night.”

Evan shook his head, his brows drawing together in confusion. “I don’t remember. I didn’t think you’d been to see me.” 

“Oh,” John said, disappointed that Evan didn’t recall his words, because that would have made this easier. “I came… I sat with you for a while… I needed to apologise… to tell you how sorry I was… I… I…,” he shook his head, slamming his clenched fist against his thigh. Then lifting both hands suddenly to his face, he rubbed them over his cheeks and eyes in a circular motion as he said, his voice breaking up, “I’ve… loved you…. for years, Evan. I don’t… I haven’t let myself… we’re not allowed… I… I’ve put it away… I didn’t want to hurt you like that Evan, I _didn’t_.” The last word was wrenched from him, a wail of misery, drawn from John’s very soul. He stood still now, his hands covering his face, silent with the force of the emotions he’d managed to express.

Evan took a step, and then another, coming closer.

“I didn’t know you felt that way, Sir…. John,” he said. “We’ve obviously both felt it, but put it aside in our own ways.”

John nodded, still hiding behind his hands. The emotions swirling around were too much.

Evan stood silently in front of John for so long, that eventually, John lowered his hands and looked at him.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to… I’m not sure, Sir,” Evan said. “But I at least need you to get past this and get back to being my CO. I miss you smirking at me, and shoving paperwork off on me, and joking with me, Sir. I need that, to find who _I_ am again.”

John nodded slowly, understanding what Evan meant. He had missed their interactions more than he’d expected, and he’d been feeling such sorrow, knowing that his actions had irreparably damaged the relationship that they had had, CO to XO – it had gone up in a puff of smoke and he had mourned it.

“Can you do that, Sir? Work to get back to normal, first. And then, maybe, in a while, if we’re both still… interested, maybe…”

John nodded. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to top for Evan, or any other guy actually, or if Evan would ever bottom again. But there were other ways to be close with someone, and actually, he didn’t feel like he even needed the sex. Just hugging Evan would be enough, holding him, knowing he was safe.

At that thought, he found himself taking a step closer, reaching out his hands, putting them on Evan’s shoulders. 

Evan stood very still, gazing up into John’s eyes. For the first time since they’d met, he could see what John was thinking, all his shields dropped, the drawbridge to his soul lowered for Evan to cross.

And so, taking a deep breath for courage, Evan took a step forward, and laid his head on John’s chest, sliding his arms around his body, and feeling John’s hands moving slowly and carefully to encircle his shoulders. 

Evan felt safe, he felt like this is where he was meant to be, and he felt the tears welling up at this feeling of rightness. He squeezed a little tighter, and felt John reciprocate, and they stood in the deserted firing range at three o’clock in the morning, holding each other up, holding each other together.

Eventually Evan loosened his grip, and John’s arms immediately fell away, making sure not to trap him if he wanted to move.

Evan took a step back. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start by getting back to normal in the office, in Atlantis, offworld. When we’ve got that back, then we can talk, see if maybe… maybe… hugging would be good.”

And John smiled at him. A warm, happy smile, a smile with no walls, no defences, a smile that came from his soul.

Evan felt his own mouth responding to that smile, and then he threw back his head and laughed, freed of the trauma and guilt and anguish. They were going to be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)


End file.
